DC & Marvel: This Guy Is Crazy

Chapter 151: Everyday Banter with the Brat

Roar!

At a certain pureblood stronghold—

A wolf's howl suddenly pierced the air, putting the feasting purebloods instantly on alert.

They had only just arrived in Gotham, yet an unexpected faction was already targeting the vampires.

Worse, none of their enemies were ordinary humans. This made the purebloods' mission drag on far slower than expected.

According to orders, they had to find all traces related to the Blood God ritual and erase them completely. No hybrids were to gain the power of the Blood God under any circumstances.

That was why they had been probing Dracula from the start, which eventually led them to track the Court of Owls' base.

Everything had been going according to plan—

Until a group of lunatics calling themselves the Midnight Bruisers burst in.

Not only did they go after the purebloods, they even took on Dracula himself.

What should've been a straightforward conflict between two sides spiraled into a chaotic three-way brawl.

Boom!

In that instant, the iron gate at the entrance was violently blasted open.

A towering werewolf, nearly two meters tall and covered in coarse fur, bared its twin rows of fangs and glared at them.

"Werewolf?!"

"He's not a trueborn werewolf—he's been cursed."

The pureblood nobles were well-versed in dark magic and highly sensitive to dark energy.

And given that werewolves were natural enemies of vampires, they instantly recognized something unusual about Russell.

"Kill him."

The pureblood nobles charged forward.

Werewolf curses were notoriously troublesome.

After all, the strength of a cursed werewolf depended entirely on the power of the one who cast the curse.

If it had been a Supreme Sorcerer-level figure who laid the curse, this one could very well rival a pureblood prince.

In the blink of an eye, a dense swarm of bats enveloped Russell.

They cast blood magic in unison, attempting to drain him dry and kill him instantly.

But Russell wasn't exactly easy prey—he leapt into the swarm without hesitation.

His razor-sharp claws slashed down, swatting several bats out of the air.

A moment later, one of the purebloods reconstituted his true form—missing a leg.

There was a flaw in their bat transformation: each bat was a part of their body. If one didn't make it back, they'd be missing the corresponding body part.

Of course, vampires had powerful regeneration abilities. Missing limbs could grow back—it was hardly a concern.

The only condition was that the missing bat had to be dead. Otherwise, the regeneration process wouldn't trigger.

Just then, a sandstorm swept in.

The swirling dust disrupted the bats, making it hard for them to maintain their formation.

Not only did they have to split their focus to control their flight paths, they also had to keep up the magic, which gave Russell the perfect opening to launch a relentless offensive.

Even though he was splattered with blood, werewolves had terrifying healing abilities. Minor magical damage was barely a concern.

…

"Who is he? A mage who controls earth elements?"

"Holy shit—is that a mummy?! There's no blood in him at all."

"Psychic attacks don't work either. His mind is shielded by some unknown force."

…

The pureblood nobles frantically tried to adapt, casting various spells to resist.

But in the end, they were no match.

Russell ripped into them savagely, clawing through chests and crushing hearts with his bare hands.

Nick supported him from the back, countering their magic with spells of his own.

"Damn it—wake the prince at once!"

Immediately, two purebloods split off and transformed into bats, flying deeper into the stronghold.

"Stop them!"

At the door, Morbius shouted in alarm.

They had already cleared out several pureblood hideouts and knew that a pureblood prince had arrived in Gotham.

Due to the long sea journey, the prince had yet to fully recover and was still bathing in blood to regain his strength.

But it was already too late.

The purebloods shattered the blood-filled vessel—and the prince within suddenly jolted awake.

Just as he was about to roar in fury, one of his subordinates swiftly reported, "Your Highness, we're under attack."

The next second, the pureblood prince dissolved into a swarm of bats.

But unlike others, his were crimson red—and some parts of his body hadn't even fully transformed.

…

On the rooftop of a high-rise in Gotham—

Allen was making his usual patrol when he ran into Damian, who was apparently still out searching for Batman.

"How come you two are together?"

Damian was accompanied by Marianne of the Van Helsing family.

The last time they met, she'd fled the scene mid-battle, something Allen still hadn't forgiven.

"She's a professional vampire hunter. Of course I brought her along to help," Damian replied.

"Brat, this woman's no saint. Not long ago she ditched me, and now she's targeting a fifteen-year-old like you. Just shows how filthy her heart is," Allen sneered with contempt.

"Call me 'brat' one more time and you'll regret it," Damian warned, clenching his fists.

"Sure, brat. No problem, brat. Got it, brat. Why so quiet, brat? Cat got your tongue, brat…"

"…"

Damian, fuming from Allen's constant jabs, finally turned around and growled, "Say that again and I'm out of here."

"Dead brat."

"I'll kill you!"

Damian snapped, drawing his short baton and launching an attack.

But he was quickly overpowered and pinned to the ground by Allen, lying there like a deflated balloon.

"Robin, what are you doing on the ground?"

Just then, Commissioner Gordon arrived.

Naturally, Damian had called him over to discuss their next move.

Lately, Damian hadn't had the heart to focus on law enforcement. All his energy had gone into finding Bruce.

Handling the pureblood crisis was a tall order—especially for a fifteen-year-old.

Last time, he'd felt confident only because Bruce had been around to back him up.

Now that his father was missing, the weight of it all had come crashing down.

"He's fine. Just worn out and resting," Allen said nonchalantly.

Gordon didn't buy it, but given Allen's recent contributions to Gotham, he let it slide without pressing further.

The Midnight Bruisers had been active in the city lately.

Gordon had clearly noticed a drop in emergency calls.

He'd even personally escorted more than a dozen Talon operatives to Blackgate Prison, which showed the clownish yet dangerous Bat-clone actually had some skills.

Naturally, Damian had caught wind of this too.

The surveillance cameras hidden all over Gotham had picked up enough footage to confirm the Bruisers weren't hostile—and had even started hosting a Where the Hell Is Dad segment.

"Huh? What just flew past?"

Gordon pointed into the distance, where two blood-red figures were tangling mid-air between the skyscrapers.

"No worries. Just my Bruisers bringing justice."

Allen glanced over and spotted Morbius in combat with some vampires.

Knowing this, Gordon felt more at ease.

He had been worried Gotham was heading for full-blown supernatural meltdown.

"Perfect timing. Let me give them a heads-up. Tell your officers not to shoot blindly. Some of the folks I brought in aren't exactly… friendly. If they get hurt by accident, I'm not taking the blame."

Take Drake or the werewolf Russell—if they got shot at, they wouldn't care who pulled the trigger.

"I understand."